Becoming Batman
by Alex Skywalker
Summary: A series of shorts about Robin becoming Batman and Dick becoming Bruce Wayne, and how hard it really is. But Dick may learn that he doesn't have to be like Bruce and go about it alone. Rated T out of Bat-paranoia.


**Yes! I finally finished this! It's a sequel to Rise of a Hero, but if you really don't want to read ROAH first, you'll probably still understand this. I've been working on this for weeks and now it's finally done. i don't have a beta, or whatever, so its not really spell/grammar- checked. This will be a series of semi-connected one-shots that focus on Robin, well, becoming Batman. Here goes...**

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><p><strong>Becoming Batman<strong>

He hated shirts. Especially ones that required the wearer to pull said shirt over his head to get it off. Richard let out a groan as he overextended his arms, pulling on the injury to the muscles in his back. He quickly stifled the sound as he heard Alfred moving around in the other room. Alfred would have a fit if he saw Dick's back. But bruises were nothing new to him and he fought to ignore them as best he could. His broken ribs on the other hand...

Once his shirt had been successfully removed, Dick limped over to the sink, dousing his face in cold water. The past couple nights had taken their toll on the young acrobats body as he pushed it to the limits. He knew there really hadn't been any reason to do all he'd done, but the sooner he got used to it the better. Things weren't going to get any easier before they got harder.

He reached for a towel and viciously rubbed at his face, drying it and then some. If this was how he felt after a couple nights on patrol with nothing more than a couple general robberies, how was he going to deal when the resident criminals came back? Only one way to find out, he thought to himself, nearly groaning again at the thought. He stopped himself as Alfred shuffled around again. He didn't think the old butler would approve at all of what he was doing. But he had to do it.

Dick sat down on the edge of the bathtub and put his head in his hands. He considered taking a shower, but rejected the idea because of the movement it would require from his injured body. The best he could do was get dressed and head down stairs for dinner. It was already well past midnight but Alfred would have something prepared. He was used to making meals at obscure hours. Because of Bruce. Bruce. The name brought pain and Dick fought to keep it in check. But it was too late.

Memories flooded into Dick's sore brain, memories of better days, when this house wasn't a lonely prison, but safe haven. When it was his home. Now it was but a four walled structure that held nothing but broken faces of people he once loved, people torn from him forever. He sobbed inside, desperately crying out for what was now lost to him, yet on the outside no tears fell and not a sound was heard. Dick was strong, stronger than he'd ever been, but also desperately weak; he felt like even a gentle breeze would blow him to pieces. The funeral had almost done so.

As he'd stood there, amidst the throng of reporters, news casters and television crew, he'd been so afraid he'd break. It took all his strength to hold himself together. This was not the place, not the time, to fall. Here he had to remain strong, stronger than ever before. He'd thought he could manage, until the reporters came over, questioning him, tearing him to pieces as they tried to dissect Bruce's memory. They'd attempted to squeeze out of him every last detail on Bruce's death. Of course he couldn't tell them what happened, so he had to make something up.

It was public knowledge that the millionaire Bruce Wayne had been brutally murdered by a criminal- most suspected the Joker. Everyone blamed Batman- why hadn't he been there to save him?- but that didn't stop rumors from forming about the dark side of Bruce Wayne. Whenever asked about Mr. Wayne's apparent "criminal" background and perhaps previous "alliance" with the Joker, it was all Dick could do to not to throttle the asker on the spot. Alfred continually reprimanded him, telling him to hold his temper, but secretly Dick knew he probably had the same feelings deep down.

The questions at the funeral had been the worst. The reporters had no respect for anyone, especially Bruce now that he was dead, and wouldn't leave Dick in peace. What hurt Dick most was that apart from him, Alfred and Commissioner Gordon and his daughter, the only guests at the funeral were the reporters. The whole thing had been broadcast live, airing on most all channels throughout Gotham. Dick hated the funeral, hated what it did to Bruce's memory. He should have been remembered as a hero, not as whatever the twisted lies of the populace made him out to be.

But of course, no one knew the hero that Bruce really was. No one knew that Bruce Wayne, while he'd died as Bruce, had been struck down as Batman. No one would ever know who Bruce had been, what he had been, what he had meant to the people of Gotham. In the days leading up to the funeral, talk about the Batman reached an all-time high. As he hadn't shown his face since the death of the billionaire people wondered what kind of part he'd had to play in Mr. Wayne's death. After all, wasn't the Batman supposed to be protecting Gotham's citizens? If the Caped Crusader couldn't even save the richest man, how were the rest supposed to feel?

Some began to suspect he'd abandoned Gotham altogether until he was again spotted on a rooftop not far from Wayne Manor. Probably trying to make up for not protecting its owner by guarding over his heir, the press mused. It was naturally assumed by all that Richard Grayson would inherit the Wayne fortune, as he did. Most felt sorry for the young adopted son of the playboy, but some were jealous of his luck. Those some needed watching and Batman was the one to do it.

The return of the Dark Knight was welcomed by most, but soon it became apparent something was wrong. While the Batman did work alone at times, the Boy Wonder was never far off. They were the Dynamic Duo for a reason. But in all the days since Batman's return, Robin hadn't been seen once. The reason soon surfaced: Robin was dead. Whether it was connected to Bruce Wayne's death or not was unknown, but most connected that to the reason why Batman hadn't been able to save the billionaire: he was busy trying to save his partner.

Dick sighed, standing up. Bruce was gone; there were no two ways about it. Dick had to get over the fact and move on. At least that was what he told himself. The Justice League, or at least the ones that knew, felt differently. Most told him he should grieve more, as it honored Bruce's memory. They didn't understand that Dick was mourning every day for his adopted father, just on the inside. Bruce wouldn't want him to give up, to lay down in defeat because of his death. The League didn't stop there though. Most believed Batman should die too, along with Bruce. They didn't want Dick to keep him alive. Of course they never mentioned any of this out loud- only the original members of the Justice League had know Batman's secret identity so to some Batman had never left, even for a minute- but Dick was now the World's Greatest Detective so he could figure these sort of things out.

He'd only been to the Headquarters once since Bruce had died, and that was only to talk with Superman. He was one of the few that knew the truth about Batman and had wanted to see how Robin would react to his death. But when Batman had shown up, announcing that Robin was dead, a fight had almost broken out. The last thing Superman wanted was for Dick to put on the Bat Cowl, but Dick insisted and had eventually left in a storm of anger. He hadn't returned since.

Dick went into his room, looking around for a clean shirt. Dick hadn't felt the need to change rooms so Bruce's lay deserted, doomed to gather dust until Dick died and someone else, generations later who'd never known Bruce inherited the house. Dick found a shirt and slowly eased it on, grinding his teeth as he was forced lift his arms above his head, pulling on his broken ribs. Once he was dressed he carefully made his way down the stairs, probably slower than he had ever before. He could smell Alfred's cooking, but now that he was here, he had no appetite.

He walked past the gym, considering working out, but decided he was too sore. Patrolling was an option, but he felt no desire to don the Batsuit and he'd already been out once that night. He'd gone patrol multiple times now and so far he hadn't faced any of Gotham's villains. He was glad for that for, while no one had noticed any differences in the Dark Knight yet, Dick knew it would only be a matter of time. The Joker already knew, but he wouldn't tell- it would be only Dick that would give away Batman's secret. Or his body at least. He'd perfected the gravelly voice well enough, and could perform everything Bruce ever did, but the fact remained that Dick was simply much smaller than Bruce had been.

He'd always been small for his age, despite his muscular build, and even though he was now seventeen Bruce had been still much bigger. He'd been trying to bulk up as much as possible, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make himself grow. When he'd first donned the full Batsuit he'd nearly drowned in it, but was surprised at how much extra stuff was on the inside, making it fit better than it he had originally thought. Still, he'd had to have Lucius tailor it to fit him, much to his annoyance.

The first time he'd worn it he'd almost died by falling off a roof- it wasn't nearly as flexible at his Robin suit had been. It had more armor, the Kevlar was thicker, and while it was more flexible than it looked, it almost felt like a strait jacket compared to his Robin outfit. He'd pushed through it though and was now more or less used to it. Even so, his body whined at the thought of patrolling again that night. He'd be ready to go at a moment's notice, like always, but didn't want to go looking for trouble.

The idea that he didn't go out patrolling when he knew he should made him hang his head in shame- Bruce would have gone out anyway. The fact remained, the one that always came back and bit him: he wasn't Bruce. No matter how hard he'd tried, he couldn't be all Bruce had been. He couldn't attend all the parties, the benefits, hang out with all the girls- er, woman. He tried, but was slowly crumbling. If he couldn't be Bruce, did the mean he couldn't be Batman?

He thought back to a conversation he'd had with Black Canary, how he'd told her that he could never be the Batman. That was back when he was thirteen, when he still had a team, when his friends were still there for him. He'd been so sure that he couldn't become the Dark Knight, but now he found the cowl being shoved down his throat. He felt like he was being tossed into the middle of the ocean without being taught how to swim. He'd seen it done before and was doing his best to imitate it, but he'd have to perfect it to survive. Sink or swim.

He heard Alfred calling him, but he didn't want to talk to him so Dick grabbed his coat and headed outside. It was getting cold out- winter was approaching. As he shut the front door his breath came out in a puff of white. He drew up the hood of his coat and walked quickly over to the front gates, climbing over them in one fluid motion, landing on the other side in a crouch. He straightened and, shoving his hands in his pockets, strode towards the main streets of Gotham, thoughts chasing each other around his head like wraiths playing tag. It was already long past nightfall, and the streets of Gotham were illuminated only by the flickering street lamps as the moon was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. Said clouds had already emptied some of their contents on the city earlier that day and the ground was slick from the rainfall, reflecting the dim light of the street lamps.

His feet moved of their own accord, taking him towards the heart of Gotham. This was his city, his world, so why did he feel so out of place? Why did he feel like every second, someone was watching him, waiting for him to mess up? Like everyone was banding against him, hiding in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Unconsciously he tensed, his eyes darting back and forth between the dark alleys on either side of him. He was waiting for it, that rush of air as his attackers bore down upon, tired of waiting for him to drown, instead ready to shove him underwater and hold him there. Any second now, anytime...

"Richard?"

Dick whirled around, hands raised to fight, only to face a familiar red haired figure.

"What are you doing here?" Dick ground out, glaring daggers at the man.

"It's nice to see you too, Richard. How's the whole 'Dark Knight' thing working for you?"

"I said, what are you doing here?"

"Yeah yeah, I know Gotham's 'your city' and all. Just wanted to drop by."

"Wrong answer, Roy. Now leave."

"Relax kid, I'm not gonna try anything."

Dick didn't answer, only turned down a side street, leaving Roy staring after him. This was the last he needed: Roy in Gotham. He may have claimed he meant no harm, but Roy ever lied a much as he told the truth.

"Richard, come on. I just wanted to talk. Look, I know this has been hard-"

Dick whirled around, anger blazing in his eyes like fire from an inferno. Roy stopped in his pursuit of Dick, the young man's version of the Batglare like arms of steal encircling his body.

"You will never understand what this has been like. Leave now before I make you. I don't like to hurt people who aren't worth the trouble."

Dick knew his words cut Roy deep, but he didn't care. This man had no business in Gotham.

"Look Richard, can't we just talk? We used to hang out a lot, back when we younger, but I haven't seen you-"

"And whose fault is that?" Dick shot back.

"You know why I left!" Roy growled, it now being his turn to be angry.

"Yeah, I know why: because you were selfish, arrogant, and full of it!" Dick now stood facing Roy across the dark pavement of the side street. His arms were crossed stiffly over his chest, anger still burning in his gaze. Roy, who'd begun to follow Dick, stopped abruptly, his countenance darkening. The two heroes stared at each other, neither of their gazes wavering at first, until Roy was forced to look down as the Batglare hit him full force.

"I had to leave. I was older than you, older than all the others that were there that day in the Hall of Justice and I was ready to be on my own. I was my own person- I was sick of being defined by Green Arrow. You understand that Richard: you're younger now than I was then. You're on your own now too- you're the Batman!"

"I didn't take that burden because I wanted to." Dick ground out, hatred beginning to brim for Red Arrow.

"Well then why did you take it?" Silence. The shouts from before we're replaced by the stillness of the night, the only sounds to be heard were that of the night. Roy didn't meet Dick's gaze again, but continued to glare at a point just above his eyes. That's when Roy noticed how long and shaggy his hair had gotten. And how pale he looked. Something was taking a heavy toll on him and what it was soon became evident.

"Batman can't die, Roy." Dick whispered, repeating the words that Bruce had told him that fateful night.

"But you don't have to be the one to keep him alive!" Roy said, sounding almost desperate.

"If not me, then who? You, Roy? Is that why you came? To try to take over the burden of Gotham's hero? Well if so, you've wasted your time." Dick turned and, viciously shoving his hands in his pockets, turned his back on Roy and strode away into the dark alley.

His feet hit the wet ground with hardly a sound and he made virtually no other noise as he made his way deeper into the heart of Gotham. His brow was furrowed in a scowl and his mouth was a straight line. His hands were unconsciously clenching and unclenching in his pockets and his whole body was tense. Roy had no right whatsoever to be in Gotham. Not now, not ever. This was Batman's city and Batman guarded it jealously. Bruce would never have allowed this to happen; he would have picked Roy up and forcibly thrown him out if he couldn't get him to leave on his volition. But Bruce was also at least five inches taller and fifty pounds heavier than I am, Dick thought ruefully.

Suddenly a heavy hand descended on Dick's shoulder and he whirled around, his fist flying up to connect with a face belonging to a tall, muscular figure. The figure went reeling, clutching his jaw as he put a hand out to steady himself.

_No one sneaks up on me,_Dick thought grimly to himself. As the figure straightened and came into the light Dick saw it was Roy again. But his face, instead of burning with anger, was softer, though his eyes were still hard.

"Jeez Richard, you can really pack a punch. Especially for your size. Made me think I got hit by a 300 pound linebacker or somethin'."

"Shut up, Roy. I thought this was over."

"You thought it was over, but you never even asked me why I came here."

"No reason could make me let you stay."

Roy grimaced at the remark, but put a hand on Dick's shoulder, successfully stopping him from turning and walking away. "Hey, let's go somewhere, get outta this town. Like old times, when we use to run away from Bats-"

"Go nurse your injury and leave me alone."

"Don't tell me you're gonna act like Bruce too. This isn't you."

"It's not you either. Stop trying to pretend you could do this. You don't understand what it's like. I'm the only one who can be Batman, so get that in your thick skull." Dick glared up into Roy's face, his jaw set and eyes glistening dangerously. He noticed with annoyance that he still had to crane his neck up to look in his eyes. Roy was dressed as a civilian, which was the only reason Dick didn't punch him again. He looked almost - worried? Concerned? Caring? Not emotions Roy Harper ever flaunted, much less give any hint that they ever existed in him.

"Come on, Dick, just walk with me."

Dick stiffened at the use of his nick name. The last person who had called him that was- was the one person who could never do it again. Roy seemed to notice his change in demeanor as he said:

"Just come on, kid. I've been there too, ya know."

Dick just scowled, but fell into step beside Roy as he led him out of Gotham's back streets and towards the outskirts. Neither said a word for a while, Roy seeming happy enough that he got Dick to come with him and not wanting to push his luck. Dick stared down at the rain soaked street, his mind strangely empty, almost barren. He welcomed the emptiness for a while until it began resembling loneliness. He was lonely even in his mind? Why was this so hard? He'd already lost one father, why was losing another still so hard? Shouldn't the first have numbed him, caused him to be immune, so the second wouldn't hurt him as much?

"You know," Roy finally spoke, clearing his throat. "I didn't come here to try to be Batman."

"Just keep telling yourself that."

"Why don't you believe me?"

"Cause I know you better than that. We kinda grew up together. Well, to some extent."

"We did, didn't we." Roy mused, looking thoughtful.

Dick only grunted, still annoyed with Roy.

"You haven't checked in with the League since, well…. Have you _ever_ checked in with the League?" Roy asked after a pause.

"Why does it matter?" Dick snapped at him.

"Richard, what's happened to you? You're so…. Different."

"Batman happened, Roy."

"You think you're being Batman by acting like this?"

"I am Batman."

Roy didn't respond, only steered them both farther from Gotham's inner streets until they'd reached the outskirts. Roy pulled out car keys from his pocket and unlocked a black Jaguar. He opened the passenger door for Dick and climbed in the driver's seat himself. Dick stood unmoving, glaring at Roy through the windshield. Roy sighed and got out again. Walking around to where Dick still stood, hands in his pockets. Roy crossed his arms.

"Get in the car."

"Why?"

"You're so immature!"

"I'm immature? _You're _the one who called me immature."

"Yes…. I did." Roy answered, obviously confused.

"Well, you're the immature one then, cause you said I was immature, and if you call someone immature that just goes to show that you're the one who's immature. "

"Umm…."

"It's simple, really. Kinda like reverse psychology." Dick explained with a straight face.

"You just said that I was immature though."

"True, but I was pointing out a fact of life, and facts are facts."

"You little-"

"Yep, very immature."

"Get in the car, brat."

"A very immature word choice." Dick said, but climbed in the car as Roy did the same. He wasn't smiling, but his scowl was gone and Roy saw it as an improvement. They drove for a while in silence, Roy going well over the speed limit, but not seeming to notice. They soon left the city far behind as Roy kept driving until they were on a hill overlooking Gotham far below. Roy got out and Dick followed him, shivering slightly as a cool breeze ripped through his jacket. The hill they were on was far above the city and well beyond the city limits and the view was amazing. Dick swept his gaze over Gotham- his city- until his eyes came to rest on the dominating tower in the center. The sight cut him deep so he turned away and instead let his gaze fall on his friend who was now perched in a tree watching Dick sadly.

"So how come you're allowed to be withdrawn and depressed but you get upset when I am?" Dick asked him, walking over and carefully climbing up to perch next to Roy, careful not aggravate his injuries. Roy noticed and asked:

"What happened?"

"And how come you don't have to answer my questions but you make me answer yours?"

"Shut up."

"Immature." Dick snickered.

Roy grimaced at him.

"How's Wally?"

Roy winced at the question. It showed Dick was finally coming out of his shell, but that was a question Roy had been hoping could wait.

"Well-"

"Still a jerk?"

"As big headed as ever."

Dick growled under his breath. Ever since Wally had taken his place as the Flash he'd gotten full of it and had refused to have anything to do with his old "sidekick life" as he's called it. Dick hadn't talked to him since shortly after their team had disbanded.

"I'm sorry Richard."

Dick just snorted.

"What?"

"That's so unlike you."

"What is?"

"Apologizing."

Roy rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Dick, really appreciate it."

Dick smirked at him.

The sat for a couple more minutes until Roy spoke again.

"So, what's it like being the richest man in Gotham? Well, the richest person, seeing as you're not a man yet."

Dick resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at Roy as he replied: "Honestly, not too hot."

Roy raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh, and why is that?'

"Well, for starters, I don't wanna kiss twelve different girls each night and then buy a whole hotel so they can go swimming in the fountain. "

Roy snickered. "When'd this happen?"

"Last night." Dick said, scowling at the memory.

"I always thought you were a ladies man?"

"Shut up."

"Immature."

"What about you?" Dick asked, curious at how Red Arrow's life had been going. "Heard you and Cheshire had a thing going."

Roy grunted, looking annoyed.

Dick smirked. "Not working out for ya?"

"Whatever." Then slowly his frown shifted into a smirk of his own. "Heard you and Barbara Gordon-"

"Don't remind me."

Now Roy smiled. "Guess heroes aren't so great at relationships."

"Not when they're trying to have twelve at once," Dick growled.

Roy looked ready to laugh at him, but refrained after the look his friend gave him. Then a thought seemed to strike him as he asked: "How's all this partying and playboying workin' out? I mean with school, and you being underage and all."

"Graduated early," Dick replied with a smirk. "And when has my age ever stopped me before?"

Roy laughed at him now, lightly at first until he saw the confused look on the heroes face causing him to laugh harder.

"What?" Dick spat.

"I just forgot how much I like you."

"Umm, thanks?"

"I mean hanging out with you. You're personality."

"Riiiight." Dick drawled, raising his eyebrow at the archer. Roy rolled his eyes and shoved his friend in the shoulder, trying to dislodge him from his perch in the tree. Dick shoved back, then somersaulted backwards off the tree, disappearing instantly into the shadows, a familiar cackle ensuing.

That's when Roy knew things would turn out alright. Or at least they'd turn out.

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><p><strong>Well, there it is. sorry if Roy seems off, never written him before, so I really don't know what he's like. And sorry to all Wally lovers (myself included) but it just kinda worked out the way it did. I don't really know much about his real story other than becoming the Flash. I also don't really know much about Dick Grayson other than what I've watched and what I've read. I've never read any Batman comics before... <strong>**But I do know some stuff about the Bat-family, so remember that. ****Also, I don't really know much about the whole Nightwing thing, or if Dick does ever become Batman, so this is not really related to any of that. Well, maybe a bit. **

**So basically, I don't know much. tsk, tsk, tsk. Later chapters might contain action, but I really have no idea how long this will be. I have a couple ideas and how to end this, but the length will really depend on the popularity and my interest in it I guess. I'm also thinking about starting a story during the time period of the YJ show that has to do with a huge war, kinda like in Failsafe, cept without everyone dying. Watcha think about that?  
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**Well that was really long and pointless. Hope you liked, and other characters will come in later. **

**Review review review! Please?**

**nine random words so that this reaches 5000 words.  
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